Red in Her Ledger
by Fantom Of The Fiction
Summary: How does Stark Tower handle Natasha Romanoff when she's on her period?
1. Day 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.

_Author's Note: I know, I know, I haven't finished "Loki and the Beast" yet. I have 2 chapters left to write but I've been so busy with my theatre department and college applications and I've been lacking motivation to write it. I'll finish it eventually._

_**If you know me in real life, do not read this fanfiction. That means you, Joe. **_

_Day One_

The Avengers stumbled into Stark Tower, beat-up and exhausted. One would think that since they're a team composed of two master assassins, a demigod, a super soldier, a man who turns into a green rage monster, and a genius, playboy, billionaire philanthropist, defeating Doctor Doom would be somewhat of a manageable task. Obviously, it wasn't.

Clint had used up every single one of his arrows, and was able to re-use about 7 of them a few times. He had waited to use his arrows though, using his gun first. He was out of ammo within the first hour. Natasha was better about using up her ammo than Clint was, as it took a few hours before she was almost out. She was in a terrible mood now, and she immediately retreated to her apartment in Stark Tower.

Thor didn't seem too badly damaged; he _was_ a demigod, after all. He wasn't as exhausted as everyone else, but he was covered in as many cuts and bruises as the rest of them. Steve was on the same level of exhaustion as Thor, and had just as many cuts and bruises that were already almost healed. His hair was messed up and the ends were singed in some areas; nothing a shower couldn't fix.

Banner was the most exhausted out of them all. Even though he wasn't even the one that had been fighting – the Other Guy had been – it wore him out to be a beast that performs unimaginable stunts during battle. He didn't even make it to his apartment in Stark Tower. He crashed on the couch in the main socializing area and was asleep before his body finished colliding with it.

Tony was his usual jackass self. His suit was a wreck, though. He removed it and immediately went to the bar to fix himself a drink.

**XXXX**

Thor was the first one to wake up. He lazily made his way to the kitchen and stood in the center of the room for a few minutes, his mind still clouded by sleep. He normally didn't sleep in Stark Tower. He lived on Asgard, coming and going as he pleased. He had decided to stay for a while, wanting to learn the ways of the Midgardians. He snapped out of his daze when his stomach growled. He looked around for the food. Glancing at the table, he saw no food already prepared that he could munch on, much to his disappointment.

He walked to the cabinets and refrigerator that lined one of the walls, opening drawers and doors as he came across them, finding nothing but dishes and cleaning supplies. He nearly had a heart attack when JARVIS' voice came on.

"Sir, would you like some assistance?"

"Who is there? I am Thor Odinson, of Asgard. Show yourself!" he threatened.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir, as I am an artificial intelligence computer. I have no body."

"Coward!"

"Sir, I simply wish to assist you. I mean you no harm. I am Tony Stark's home computing system."

Thor relaxed, "Oh. I apologize. I was not made aware that you were part of this household."

"Quite alright, sir," there was a pause, "Would you like for me to assist you in your search for breakfast?"

"That would be of much help, thank you. What sustenance is available in this dwelling?"

"We have cereal, fruit, bacon, various breads, and Pop-Tarts."

"What on Asgard is a Pop-Tart?" Thor asked, baffled.

There was a short pause, "Wikipedia states that Pop-Tarts are a brand of rectangular, pre-baked toaster pastries made by the Kellogg Company. Pop-Tarts have a sugary filling sealed inside two layers of rectangular, thin pastry crust. Most varieties are also frosted. Although sold pre-cooked, they are designed to be warmed inside a toaster or microwave oven. They are usually sold in pairs inside foil packages, and do not require refrigeration."

"That sounds delicious. Where might I acquire one of these Pop-Tarts?" a cabinet door opened just near him, nearly giving him another heart attack, "Thank you, Voice of the Tower."

"My pleasure, sir."

Thor peered inside the cabinet. It was filled with blue boxes presenting the label "Pop-Tarts" on it. Thor took out every box and set them on the counter. There were five boxes of Brown Sugar Cinnamon, two boxes of Cherry, four boxes of Strawberry, one box on Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, and five boxes of S'Mores. Thor didn't understand what any of the names meant, so he looked at the pictures. After a few minutes of contemplating and debating, he decided on a Brown Sugar Cinnamon. He ripped the box open and silver packages came out, spilling over the counter. Thor picked one up, put the rest of the boxes back in the cabinet, and placed the small packages in various places within the cabinet and closed the door. Feeling triumphant, he looked at the silver package in his hand.

"Bodiless Man?" Thor called out, unsure.

"Yes, sir?" JARVIS responded.

"Are these to be warmed?"

"Yes, sir."

A pause, "How?"

"You may use either the toaster, toaster oven, or microwave."

"What is a toaster?"

"It is the silver contraption near your right arm."

Thor turned to his right, and sure enough, there was a silver contraption there. He put the package on top of the toaster and waited. JARVIS hadn't said anything about his actions, so he figured that he was doing it correctly. He poked at the small package, wondering how he was supposed to eat it. The box had shown him pictures of delectable-looking pastries, and he wanted to eat them, _'Maybe they are concealed within the small package,'_ he thought to himself.

After about ten minutes of poking at it, he began to get agitated, "Why is this confounded contraption not working? Does it truly take this long for Midgardian food to heat up?"

"What are you doing, Thor?"

Thor looked up, startled. Steve was looking at him, sleep still very much in his eyes.

"I am making breakfast," he stated.

"I'm no professional at modern-day technology, but I think you're doing it wrong." Steve shuffled over to where Thor was, "I've seen Tony make these things before. You're supposed to take them out of the foil, first." Steve picked up the Pop-Tarts and ripped open the package, "Then ah… Oh. Next, you put them in these slots," He placed them in the toaster, "Then you have to wait."

"I have been waiting for ten minutes! I do not wish to wait any longer!"

"Calm down, Thor. It will only take a few minutes."

Thor narrowed his eyes at Steve, "Fine."

The two men waited, watching the toaster. Thor's stomach growled three times in the few minutes they were waiting.

"Has it finished?" Thor asked.

"I have no idea," Steve responded honestly.

"Should it not be warmer now?"

"I think so," Steve put his hand above the toaster, "It's not."

Thor sighed heavily. They waited some more.

"Maybe it's broken."

Thor had had enough of this tomfoolery and growled. He held his arm out, hand open. Steve heard clattering, and in a moment, Thor's hammer found its way into Thor's hand.

"Thor, I don't think-" But it was too late. Thor held his hammer above his head, and Steve knew what was coming. He didn't even argue with the demigod – it would be pointless. Instead, he quickly took cover under the kitchen table and covered his head with his arms, covering his ears. Thunder rumbled outside of Stark Tower, and soon the kitchen lit up and a loud CRACK was heard. As quickly as the thunder had come, it left. Steve cautiously emerged from beneath the table. He looked up at Thor, who was again standing triumphantly above the toaster, black smoke coming out from it.

"I have succeeded in warming these pastries!"

Steve burst into uncontrollable laughter. Thor picked up the toaster and turned it upside down, the burnt Pop-Tarts falling onto the countertop.

Just then, a worried Tony, a terrified Clint, and a slightly green Banner ran into the kitchen.

"What in the hell was that?!" Tony demanded.

"I have toasted Pop-Tarts!" Thor replied.

Clint, spotting Mjölnir, "Did you use that thing to toast them?"

"Your Pop-Tart heating machine was not heating my Pop-Tarts, so I was required to do so myself."

Clint and Tony joined Steve in uncontrollable laughter. Bruce chuckled, and Thor grinned from ear to ear.

Once the laughter died down, Clint's eyes went wide as he heard heavy footsteps down the hall. "Shit."

"Something wrong, Clint?" Steve asked.

Clint gulped, "Yeah, there is," the footsteps got closer, and Clint scrambled to the glass door to the balcony, "Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid. You're on your own, guys," Clint saluted as he opened the door and disappeared, leaving the four very confused men to fend for themselves.

They looked at each other skeptically, "What's he talking about?" Steve wondered aloud.

As if on cue, Natasha sauntered into the kitchen. She was wearing dark grey sweatpants that sported the words "Emerson College" down the side of the left leg in large white letters, and she had on one of (what used to be) Clint's black t-shirts. It was fairly large on her thin frame and it hung loosely, exposing part of her right shoulder. A thick white sports bra strap was showing beneath. The neck of the shirt had been cut off along with the ends of the sleeves and the very bottom of the shirt. Her hair was a mess, and dark circles found their ways under her eyes. She did not look happy.

"What was that noise," She asked flatly.

"I have toasted the Pop-Tarts!" Thor proudly picked one up and handed it to her. She looked at the burnt Pop-Tart, then at Thor, and back to the Pop-Tart. Raising her hand, she smacked it out of his hands. It landed on the floor with a soft crunching sound, breaking into pieces, "_Idiot_," she mumbled under her breath.

Thor stared at the broken pastry on the ground like a sad puppy. The others stared.

Natasha turned and walked to the refrigerator, opening it forcefully. She stood there for a moment before she spoke, "_Where are the goddamned apples_?" she shouted, causing the men in the room to jump back in surprise, not having expected her to do so, "I said… _where are the apples_?" she enunciated each word individually.

Steve was the first to walk to his doom, "Uhm… There are… No more apples…"

Natasha turned slowly, closing the refrigerator door as she did so. Steve backed away when he saw the crazy glint in her eyes, as did the rest of the men.

"Well, we're going to have to fix that, now won't we?" she said calmly, "And Steve, you're going to be the one to do so."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"You're going to have to go with me to the store and _buy me apples_. Alright?" Steve nodded his head quickly, "Good," she turned to Tony, "Stark, I'm taking the Saleen S7," Tony opened his mouth to argue, "And don't even _think _about trying to persuade me otherwise. There is nothing that you can say or do to change my mind," turning to Steve, "Steve, come with me. You're driving, and bring your wallet." she turned and walked out of the kitchen and headed down to the garage.

Tony, the only one who fully understood what was happening, walked toward him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, "Farewell, soldier. It was nice knowing you."

"I do not understand. For what reason is Miss Romanoff behaving so negatively?" Thor questioned as he bit into a burnt Pop-Tart.

"She could just be tired. Or she has some chemical imbalances," Bruce suggested.

"Nice try boys, but I know what's going on. It's _'that time of the month'_ again. She's going to be like this for the next four to seven days." Tony told them. Something clicked inside Bruce, and he immediately understood.

"_Four_ to _seven_ days?" Steve's voice cracked, "Why? What's wrong with her? Does that mean it'll happen every month?"

"She's on her period," the men turned to see that Clint had returned. Steve processed what he had said for a moment, then immediately turned a bright shade of red, "She'll be angry, happy, horny, sad, and any other emotion you can think of. Her emotions will change constantly, so don't even question it. Considering the fact that she's the Black Widow, I wouldn't piss her off too much. A few years ago, some intern at SHIELD did something really stupid – I can't remember what it was, for the life of me – and she held a gun to his head as she lectured him. It was hilarious to watch, honestly. The kid never came back." Steve gulped, "Steve, I suggest you get your ass to the garage right now before she does the same to you," indicating the rest of the men, "I'll give you a full run-down of how to best handle this while they're out. Steve, I'll fill you in when you get back." Clint saluted him, and Steve slowly turned and walked to his metaphorical death.

**XXXX**

Natasha walked into the grocery store with Steve trailing along behind her. He sported a pink handprint on his face where Natasha had slapped him. He had commented on her hair, and that she should brush it out. She had gotten offended and slapped him.

She made her way to the sanitary items aisle, looking for supplies. Steve wouldn't step foot in the aisle; he was too embarrassed to.

"Steve, get me a shopping cart," Natasha called to him.

Grateful for something to do, Steve retrieved a shopping cart. He returned after a few moments with the shopping cart, stopping at the opening of the aisle.

"What are you waiting for, Rogers? Get over here," Natasha demanded.

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"This aisle is for... Women," he said bashfully.

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Rogers, it isn't the nineteen hundreds anymore. You're allowed to walk down the women's aisle in a grocery store. Men do it all the time. Ask Clint; he's done it more times than he can count."

"Are you sure, Natasha? I don't think it's right," Steve stammered, trying to talk his way out of this.

"Yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. Now get your ass over here before I do something about it," she threatened.

Steve, not wanting to be slapped again, blushed a shade of red, took a deep breath, and stepped into the aisle, walking briskly toward Natasha. Once he was near enough, she grabbed a few packages of pads. Glancing quickly at each one that she tossed into the cart, Steve saw the word "winged."

'Why would sanitary pads need wings?' he thought to himself.

Natasha turned her attention toward another section of the wall lined with menstrual needs. She tossed in a box of tampons.

"Natasha?" Steve squeaked.

"Hmm?"

"Didn't you want to buy apples?"

"Oh, that's right! Thanks for reminding me," she said cheerfully, confusing the hell out of Steve. Nonetheless, he followed her to the produce section. Natasha ripped off one of the plastic bags at the apple section and picked up, judged, and put back at least seven apples before she was satisfied with an apple. She put it in the bag and repeated this process several more times. When she had filled up half of the bag, she smiled and placed the bag into the cart.

"We all finished here?" Steve asked.

"Not quite. We need more cheese, crackers, and chocolate."

Steve followed her, pushing the cart around the grocery store. When she was finally content with what she had chosen, she told Steve that she was ready to check out.

"Oh, finally," Steve said with an exasperated sigh.

"I'll go wait in the car while you check out."

"Ah, what? Why do I have to check out?" he questioned.

"Well you don't expect me to buy pads and tampons, do you? That's embarrassing."

"Well it's embarrassing for me, too!"

"Hey, plenty of men do it. Just ask Clint; he's done it more times than he can count," she repeated what she had said earlier.

Steve didn't try to talk his way out of this one, already knowing that she wasn't going to let him out of this.

"I'll see you in the car," she smirked as she walked out of the building.

**XXXX**

Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Clint were sitting around the living room in various positions, waiting to discuss the matter at hand. Tony was the first to speak.

"Alrigh' Merida, hao d'weh goh aboot thees, thehn?" Tony asked Clint, who ignored his attempt to be funny.

"Well, first thing's first. I can tell that neither Thor nor Bruce know what the hell is going on, so we should explain it to them."

"I know what's going on, Clint. I'm just confused with how to deal with it," Bruce stated.

"I, for one, do not understand at all what is happening," Thor boomed, "What is a period? Is it not a length or portion of time?"

"Not in this case. Natasha is on her period, which means that her body is telling her that one, she's not pregnant, and two, that she has an excuse to be a bitch for a few days." Tony scoffed.

"I am beginning to understand this now. Do go on."

Clint nodded, "There isn't much else to say, except that... uhh... When a woman is on her period, she ah...," Clint paused, "She bleeds out of her woman part," all of the men cringed at that.

"Does this happen to every female in Midgard?" Thor questioned.

"Sadly yes, it does. Every twenty eight days."

Thor scrunched his face in thought.

"So how do we prevent her from killing us?" Bruce asked.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you all about. Nat has very specific things happen to her while it's that time of the month. From what I can tell, on the first day, she's just angry. Her cramps also start then, so make sure we have lots of Advil or Tylenol around the house. She'll probably just want to lie around the house and watch movies and eat chocolate. Tony, do you have a Netflix account?"

"What do you take me for, man? Of course I have a Netflix account." Tony told him.

Clint nodded, "I also know that she gets angry easily, eats a lot of chocolate, and she either wants attention a lot or wants no one to be around her. It depends on her mood, which will change constantly. Oh, and she gets cramps."

"Cramps?" Bruce asked.

"Cramps," Tony affirmed.

"What does that mean?" asked Thor, who obviously didn't understand anything about the topic of discussion.

"Let me ask you this, Point-Break," Tony spoke up, "Ever been kicked in the balls?"

Thor grimaced, "In fact, I have. It is not a pleasurable experience."

"Exactly. Imagine getting kicked in the balls all day long for four days in a row," Thor cringed at the thought, "Yeah, that's exactly what it's like."

"Are there any special precautions we should take?" asked Bruce. "Like how we can avoid being murdered?"

"Might I suggest a men-only vacation for a week?" Tony suggested.

"I wish it was that simple," Clint sighed.

"And why isn't it that simple?"

"She gets very… needy when she's on her period."

"Needy how?"

Clint made a point to look all of the men in the eyes, "She will literally turn us all into her man-slaves. She'll blackmail us and make us do things against our will, just like what she's doing to Steve now."

"I hope you're exaggerating, Clint," Bruce said.

"Well, maybe a little bit," Clint admitted, "But she will make us do things for her."

"Such as?"

"Make us buy things that she needs, listen to her bitch about whatever. We'll need to compliment her a lot and she usually gets zits on her face, which she hates."

"What is a zit?" asked Thor.

"It's a red spot people get on their faces. It's a clogged pore. Teenagers almost always have them covering their faces when they go through puberty," Tony explained.

"Yeah, what he said. So, we'll need to be extra cautious for the next few days. Keep quiet, don't do anything stupid, and don't bother her unless it's absolutely necessary," he smirked, "Oh, and I'll deal with her when she gets horny."


	2. Day 2

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Reviews motivate me to write more, so here's the next chapter! Also, there are spoilers for BBC Sherlock. If you haven't finished watching the series, I'll put a * at the spoilers section._

**Important: If there's an **_**Avengers**_** fanfiction that you'd like to read that hasn't been written, feel free to send me a prompt and I'll write it! I'll write any Avengers ship. You can also send me prompts for drabbles. I can't write sexually explicit fanfictions, though. I'm far too awkward to write them, even though I've read a ton.**

Day Two

Natasha woke to a stabbing pain in her lower abdomen, "Noooo," she whined. She glanced at the clock, which read 5:56, "Cliiiint," he rustled a bit in the bed next to her, "Cliiiint," she whined again, louder this time. Still no response. "Clint Barton, wake up, dammit!" she managed to kick him in the knee with her ankle.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he said groggily, immediately waking up. Natasha only whined in response, clutching her lower abdomen, "Ooh, it's th' cramps, isn't it?"

She managed an "Mmhmm" as she curled into a ball.

"Do you want me t'get you an Advil or somethin'?"

"Mm-mm." she buried her face in her pillow, shaking her head.

"Tylenol?"

"Mm-mm."

"Uh... Heating pad?" he was running out of ideas.

"Mm-mm."

"Well... What else can I do to ease the pain?" he asked her as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, burying his face in her hair.

"Mmm... That..." her voice was muffled by the pillow, but he heard her nonetheless.

Clint began rubbing her lower abdomen. He began with making a small circle with his fingers, eventually managing to move his hand back and forth as she shifted positions.

She was now lying on her back with her right leg bent and her left straight. She had her left arm draped over her chest, and her right at her side. Clint continued to massage her, making larger circles with his hand, and every so often he would make patterns on her skin with his fingers.

She snuggled up to him and eventually, her breathing deepened and her body relaxed, and he knew that she had fallen asleep. He continued massaging her for a few more minutes until his arm grew tired, and soon enough, he drifted off to sleep once again.

**XXXX**

The second time Natasha woke up, it was at the reasonable hour of nine o'clock. She opened her eyes slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light that was filling the room. Thankfully, the cramps she had been experiencing earlier weren't plaguing her at the moment. She tried to move out of the bed, but Clint's arm restrained her. Turning her head in his direction, she saw that he was, thankfully, still sleeping.

Very gently so that she wouldn't wake him up, she maneuvered her way out of his grip. He subconsciously tried to reach out to find the source of comforting heat she had provided him, and e settled for the pillow she had been resting her head on as she slept, holding it close. She silently dropped to the floor and crawled to her dresser.

There was no real reason for her to be silent; Clint slept like a rock. It was very difficult to wake him up.

She pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser and searched though various articles of clothing before she found what she was looking for. She pulled out Clint's folded black knitted sweater and took off his black shirt she had been wearing the previous day. She pulled the sweater on over her head, an opened the top drawer of the dresser. She found two socks and put them on her feet.

Natasha sat there on the floor for a few moments until she heard her stomach growl. Sighing, she stood up and shuffled to the kitchen in search of something to eat.

We she arrived at the kitchen, she hadn't expected to see Bruce already awake and making breakfast.

"Morning," she mumbled.

Bruce looked up, not having expected to see her yet, "Oh, good morning, Natasha. Sleep well?"

She shrugged, "I guess. I woke up at 6 with horrendous cramps," she grimaced at the memory.

"Well I'm sorry to hear that," he paused, "I actually read up on... You know...," he gestured to her, "Last night, and the Internet said that fruit helps ease the pain of cramps. So I thought I would make you some fruit for breakfast."

Natasha smiled at him, "Thanks, Bruce. That's really sweet of you."

Bruce had half-expected her to lash out at him for mentioning her period, and was grateful that she hadn't. He didn't have a plan of action if she did. Pushing that thought aside, he picked up the plate of fruit and set it down in front of her.

Natasha contemplated which piece of fruit she would munch on first, and decided to go with a kiwi slice. Bruce picked up an orange slice and ate it.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the rare peace and quiet that touched Stark Tower that morning.

Breaking the silence, Bruce asked, "So what are you planning on doing today? Sitting around doing nothing, or do you think you might work out at SHIELD?"

Natasha thought about that for a moment, "I think I'm going to stay in today. Probably watch stuff on Netflix, which I haven't done in a long time. And yourself?"

"Tony and I are working on some experiments today. We want to try to see if we can control the Other Guy, get him to recognize people who aren't enemies," Natasha noticed that he was careful not to use the term friends, "Like what happened when we were fighting Loki some months ago."

"You know, I was actually wondering about that a few weeks ago. How were you able to do that, anyway?" she questioned as she bit into an apple slice.

"Honestly, I don't remember too well. I think it was the fact that in my own head, I knew that the Chitauri were the bad guys," he paused, thinking, "It could also be that I intentionally changed into him. Actually, I think that's how I did it. It must be; it's the only logical explanation."

Natasha smirked, "Well I'm glad I could be of assistance, Doctor Banner."

"Yeah, thank you, Agent Romanoff. What would I do without you?"

Natasha smiled smugly and bit into another apple slice.

**XXXX**

"Stark!" Natasha called out. When there was no response, she walked down to Tony's lab. Peering into the extensive room through the glass walls, she saw that he wasn't in there. She sighed.

"Is there something I can assist you with, Miss?" came JARVIS' electronic voice.

Other than Tony, Natasha was the only one who didn't feel like a complete fool when she spoke to JARVIS, "Yeah, there is. Is there a home theatre in this place?"

"Yes, Miss. It is located on the seventeenth floor."

"Thanks."

"My pleasure, Miss."

"Oh, and where's Barton?"

"Mister Barton is in his training room on the twentieth floor. Would you like me to tell him that you are looking for him?"

"That would be nice. Tell him to meet me in the home theatre ASAP."

"Of course, Miss."

**XXXX**

"Sir, Miss Romanoff wishes for you to meet her in the home theatre on floor seventeen."

**XXXX ***

"Tasha? You in here yet?" Clint called out as he opened the door.

"Over here," Clint moved in the general direction of her voice.

"A little light would be nice," he mumbled. JARVIS heard him and turned on some dim lights, 'That's so cool,' thought Clint. He saw the top of her red head poking out from the other side of one of the many couches that littered the room. She was searching for the remote, giving up after another few seconds.

"JARVIS, turn on the TV please." she huffed. The huge TV set came to life along with the many speakers and subwoofers, "And turn down the volume to five!" she added quickly, not wanting to burst her ear drums. Turning to Clint, "Come, sit." she patted the spot next to her on the couch.

Clint hopped over the back of the couch and landed next to her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her to him. She giggled as she tried to break free, and even though she was more than capable of doing so, she didn't attempt to. He kept a firm grip on her, pulling her down with him as he moved to lay on his back.

"Clint, let go!" she said through giggles.

"Nnnno."

"Clint!" she began to squirm in his arms and maneuvered her way onto her stomach, still held in his grasp. As her giggles faded, she laid her head on his chest and took a deep breath, taking in his scent. He kissed the top of her head.

"Clint?"

"Hmm?"

"You smell nice."

"Thanks. It's aftershave." he smiled.

"That doesn't make it smell it any less nice."

"I should hope not. I take pride in my lack of facial hair."

Natasha made a breathy laugh.

They laid like that until Natasha wiggled her way out of his hold and picked up the touch-screen remote that controlled the TV. She typed " " into the search bar and tapped enter. The screen immediately changed to the familiar website with the red background. She tapped the search bar and typed in "Sherlock."

"Sherlock? Is that like Sherlock Holmes?" asked Clint.

Natasha responded with a nod, "It's the BBC version with Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman."

"Is he related to Morgan Freeman?"

Natasha only glared at him.

"It was an honest question…" Clint muttered.

Natasha ignored him and pressed play, "I heard someone talking about this show when I was out with Steve yesterday. It seemed interesting. Apparently the director-writer guy is making the fandom go crazy right now. So I decided to watch it."

"Makes… sense."

They sat patiently as it loaded, and were startled when they were immediately shown gunfire.

"This is intense already." Clint commented.

"Poor guy."

"Can he not walk or something?"

"Shh, you'll figure it out."

"Oh, he walks with a cane," there was a pause, "He didn't use a coaster."

"Shut up, Clint!"

"…His cane looks like a hammer – Ouch!" Natasha had punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

"I said shut up, assbutt!"

"Assbutt? Really?"

"Shh."

Clint mumbled something under his breath.

"How will a blog help him get over his trauma?" Natasha asked this time.

"Shh, you'll figure it out." He mocked. Natasha punched him again.

**XXXX**

"JARVIS, tell someone to get me some chocolate."

"Yes, Miss. Who would you like me to tell?"

"_I don't_ _care_. Just tell _someone_ in this house. I need it _now_."

There was a short pause, then, "Yes, Miss."

**XXXX**

"Sir, Miss Romanoff is requesting chocolate."

"And why are you telling me this, JARVIS?" Tony asked him, "Can't you see that I'm currently preoccupied?"

"Sir, I'm afraid that she is being very adamant about this."

Tony rolled his eyes.

"I can get her some, if you don't want to leave your work," Bruce offered.

Bruce and Tony were creating research regarding the Hulk. Bruce was currently hooked up to various machines that were tracking his blood pressure and brain activity.

"Nah, that's fine. I'll get the Queen her chocolate." He huffed and got up from his seat in front of his many computer screens, "Don't… move." He told Bruce.

"As if I can," he laughed.

"Wish me luck, Doctor. I'm heading to the battlefield." Tony saluted him and walked out before he could get a response.

Tony stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, "Why does this building have so many floors?" he asked himself as the door opened.

"JARVIS, where's the chocolate?"

"In the cabinet above the sink, sir."

"Why is it in the cabinet? Shouldn't it be in the closet?"

"I'm not sure, sir. Mister Rogers stored it there. I would advise asking him about that."

Tony opened up the cabinet door and was shocked to see the vast amount of chocolate that was stuffed into the small space.

"Did she _really_ need to buy all of this chocolate?"

**XXXX**

"JARVIS, is anyone getting me my chocolate?" Natasha demanded.

"Yes, Miss. Mister Stark is gathering it for you as we speak."

As soon as he said this, Tony walked into the room, his arms filled with bags and boxes of chocolate.

"I didn't know which one you wanted, so I brought them all."

Natasha was torn between wondering if Stark was being sarcastic and not caring because she finally had her chocolate, "Put it on the table."

Tony made his way around the couch and dropped the packages of chocolate on the coffee table, "You know, you could have gotten this stuff by yourself. Or had Clint do it."

"Do you even_ see_ Clint anywhere around here?"

"No, but why make me do the dirty work?"

"I'd hardly call it dirty work, Stark. And I'm too comfortable to get up and get it." Natasha was curled up in the middle of what appeared to be a bird's nest made of pillows and blankets.

"Did Bird Man make that for you?" Tony asked, indicating the nest.

"Yeah. He's good at making nests."

"Obviously. Anyway, am I done here?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Yeah. Get out of my face now, Stark."

"Touchy, touchy." Tony mocked being hurt. Natasha ignored him, turning her attention back to the television.

**XXXX**

_Author's Note: I'm having writers block. What should happen next?_


	3. Day 3

_Author's Note: Wow, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I received a lot of chapter ideas. I'm going to do my best to incorporate as many as I can, seeing as how they're all hilarious and will be lots of fun to write! I apologize for the wait for this chapter. I was in a repeating state of writing and deleting.___

_I'm not affiliated with Two Little Red Hens. I couldn't find any information about its history, so I just made it up as I went along._

Day 3

Clint came bursting into the main living area, causing Steve to spill his coffee on his shirt and Bruce to nearly fall off his seat. Tony only wore a look of surprise.

"What's the rush? Early Bird trying to catch the worm?" Tony asked, "Sorry, but I think the Red-White-and-Blue Footed Booby here beat you to it." Steve glared at him.

"It's - Tasha," Clint said, catching his breath, "She's - she's on a rampage."

Steve's eyes went wide as he dabbed at the coffee stain on his shirt with a napkin. He and Bruce shared a look of worry.

"What do you mean, a rampage?" Bruce inquired.

"I mean she's a red-haired She Hulk."

"Then we'd better clear out before she -" Bruce was cut off by Natasha yelling from the opening elevator.

"Why the hell does Stark have so many floors in this goddamn building? Does he even use all of them?"

Steve audibly gulped. Natasha came storming into the living area.

"Stark! There you are. What the actual fuck is up with all your floors? Why do you even have them? Are they all entire floors dedicated to your various sexual partners?"

"You know, Romanoff, I was just wondering the same thing yesterday. Do they really bother you that much? Because if they do, I would be more than happy to demolish all of them, just to make you happy."

Steve, Bruce, and Clint looked at Tony like he had just asked an assassin to murder him. Which technically, he did.

Natasha stared at him for a moment, "Are you sassing me, Stark?" she asked slowly.

"Well, you could say that. I prefer to call it witty sarcasm, myself." he sniffed.

"Mister Stark. Do you not understand what is happening to me at this very moment in time? Do you even understand?" she spoke very slowly, enunciating each word, "To put it into terms that a lowlife such as yourself can understand, my uterus is falling out of my vagina."

At the mention of this, Steve rose from his seat and left the room.

"When I sneeze or cough, it feels like Niagara fucking Falls is in my pants," she continued, "I fall asleep with clean sheets and wake up with the Japanese flag."

Clint made a grossed out face.

"My boobs hurt like a mother fucker, and no, Clint, you may not massage them for me. I'm pissed off for a whole week and I can't control my moods which pisses me off even more, so it's an endless cycle of anger. Do you even know how that feels, you _ass_?"

Tony gulped. Natasha took a step closer to him, "Your jackass attitude is not helping my case in the slightest. Your very presence is beyond irritating to me. You're an ass to literally everyone, and your facial hair is ridiculous and it looks horrible."

Natasha took a final step toward Tony, her footsteps inaudible. She put her lips to his ear and said, just below a whisper, "If you so much as look at me for the rest of the week, I promise you that I will disengage that hunk of metal that's keeping you alive while you sleep and watch as the shrapnel finally finds its way into your heart, killing you slowly and very, very painfully."

It was then that Tony realized that she was holding a small, sharp knife to his chest.

"Run." she whispered.

And so he did.

**XXXX**

"A She Hulk? I do not understand." Thor bellowed.

"You know how Banner has this habit of turning into a 'big green rage monster,' as Tony is so fond of calling it?" Clint asked him. Thor nodded. "Yeah. A female version of that. Except red, not green."

"That is a truly terrifying sight. I do not wish to encounter that in my endeavors here on Midgard."

"Yeah, I'll say. She held a knife to Stark's chest. I could have sworn she was about to stab him. Not that I would mind, of course. Someone has to teach him a lesson eventually."

**XXXX**

Natasha couldn't sleep that night. She had been tossing and turning for the past hour and a half because she couldn't find a comfortable enough position. Her eyes were tired, but her body was restless.

On top of that, her cramps had started up again, which of course, made her back hurt like hell.

She had tried taking pain killers, but they didn't help as much as she would have liked. Clint had massaged her again, but he fell asleep before he could relieve the pain.

She looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was only 2:17. Why was she in bed so early? She never went to bed this early. 'Damn period, making me do weird things.' she thought to herself.

She was bored.

She wasn't in the mood to work out, practice her shooting, or watch movies. She wasn't going to wake anyone in the tower up, either. What good were they? None of them knew how she was feeling. What is the purpose of men if they can't even stay awake long enough to massage a woman who's in pain?

With a huff, she sat up and got out of bed. She put on a pair of black low-rise yoga pants, a deep red sports bra, and a loose grey shirt that had a faded American flag design on the front. Slipping on her sneakers, she grabbed her purse and jacket and headed out of the tower.

The cool night air felt good. It cooled her down immensely.

She looked left then right, and headed to her right. The streets of New York City weren't as crowded at night in this area, so she strolled along leisurely, looking in all of the darkened shop windows as she passed them.

She eventually found herself on 1652 2nd Avenue. She glanced at a small shop as she passed it, only to walk a few steps back so she was in front of it again.

It was a quaint little shop, and its sign read "Two Little Red Hens." she looked in the display cases, and saw tons of amazingly decorated cupcakes. She licked her lips. She could really go for a cupcake right now.

She saw that the sign on the door said that the shop was closed, but the lights were still on inside.

Curiosity getting to the best of her, she pushed the door, and to her surprise, it opened. A small bell chimed above her head as she opened the door all the way and took a step inside.

"Hello? Anyone in here?" she called out.

She heard a sound coming from the room in the back of the store, a small "Oh, bother," and the shuffling of feet that soon became louder.

An elderly woman poked her head out from the doorway, clearly surprised to see someone in the shop at this hour.

"Can I help you, dear?" the old woman asked with a kind voice.

"Is it too late to ask if I can buy a cupcake?" Natasha asked sheepishly.

"Oh, no! Not at all, dear," the woman said happily as she walked behind the counter, "Though I'm afraid they may be rather stale. They have been out almost all day."

Just as she said this, a woman who looked exactly the same as her emerged from the back room, dusting flour off of her green apron.

"Myrtle, did I just hear you almost give a customer a stale cupcake?" she asked.

Myrtle huffed and rolled her eyes childishly, "Marge, for heaven sake. What else can I do?"

"You could show the girl common courtesy and bake her a fresh cupcake!"

"Oh, you don't need to do that. I don't mind if it's a bit stale," Natasha assured the one named Marge.

"Nonsense. I will not sell a young woman who showed up at my store at three in the morning a stale cupcake." she said sternly, "I was just about to whip up a batch, but I wasn't sure what flavor to make. Would you like to help me?"

Natasha hadn't expected her to say that, and she certainly hadn't expected Marge to ask her so quickly. Nevertheless, Natasha smiled. At last, something to do!

She looked back and forth between the two women, who were both looking at her expectantly, "Sure. That sounds like fun."

"Oh, wonderful! Come, come, follow me." Marge ushered her over, and she led Natasha to the kitchen.

The kitchen didn't look anything like she had expected. She had assumed that it would have some stainless steel ovens and chrome countertops covered in high-tech cooking appliances. Instead, the kitchen had one large stove, and the countertops were marble. Shelves were lined with bowls, cupcake trays, cookie trays, and cake tins. The sink was filled with soap bubbles, and it looked as though one of the elderly women had been cleaning the dishes before she had come in.

Marge pulled a large binder off of a small bookshelf that was just inside the door and to the right. She set it on the table in the middle of the room and sat down. Natasha followed suit.

"Now, what flavor cupcake are you in the mood for?"

**XXXX**

"Ah, I see, I see. I still remember how much trouble it can be, even though it's been so many years since it last happened." Marge sympathized.

"You had the worst ones, Marge. You would always get so angry! It was hell to be your twin during those times." Myrtle told her.

Natasha laughed. The cupcakes were baking, and the answer to the question "Now, tell me. Why are you out this late at night?" had turned into a "Back when I was your age" discussion.

"Yes, I'll admit it. I had such a temper, and it would only get worse when it was that time of the month."

"But it was so fun when we were both having the same moods, and we would huddle around a book and just cry or laugh at what we were reading."

"I remember that very well. We would read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's books and pretend that we were both Sherlock Holmes!" both of the women laughed at that memory.

Their laughter died down, and after a moment of silence, Marge stood up, "Would either of you like something to drink?"

"The usual Rosemary tea for me."

Marge turned to Natasha, "And for you?"

"I'll take some hot chocolate."

"Very well, dear. I'll put on the kettle." the old woman bustled away.

"So I've answered your questions, how about you answer mine?" Natasha asked Myrtle.

"Oh, of course. I bet you want to know why my sister and I are awake at such an hour." she said as she glanced at the analog clock above the bookshelf. It was now 3:07.

"Actually, I was." Natasha chuckled.

"I thought you might ask. My sister suffers from insomnia. She acquired it after her husband died when she was only forty-two. Said she couldn't sleep at night without him there," Myrtle sighed, "I let her move in with me when it happened. Our children were already out of the house by then, so it was much easier to care for her. She was a mess. Ever since then, I've stayed up with her every night that she couldn't sleep. I felt so badly for her, and I still do. She's gotten better, though. Much better. It's been thirty-one years since then."

"Oh, that's terrible. Is she unable to sleep tonight, then?"

"You're correct. That, and she had an overwhelming urge to bake tonight." Natasha laughed at that.

"Well, I'm glad she's gotten better over the years. Was it hard for you to stay up with her?"

"For the first year it was. I got sick a handful of times due to the lack of sleep, but I managed to pull through."

"That's understandable. I have a pretty messed up sleep schedule, too. My job requires me to be available at all hours. I've been at it almost my entire life, though, so I'm completely used to it."

"Heaven's sake, what could you possibly do that would require you to work for almost your entire life?"

"It's... Complicated. I'm not at liberty to divulge that information."

"That's alright, I understand."

Marge trotted back over to them with a tray holding three mugs. She set it down on the table and sat down.

"Here you are, dear. One mug of hot chocolate, with marshmallows." Marge smiled warmly and handed Natasha the mug, who accepted it graciously.

"Mmm, thank you. It smells delicious," she tool a small sip, "And it tastes even better!"

"I do hope it's not too hot."

"Oh, no. It's perfect. Thank you." Natasha smiled again and took another sip.

**XXXX**

"Thank you so much for the cupcake and hot chocolate," Natasha said to Marge and Myrtle, "I feel much better now."

"Not at all, dear! It was our pleasure." Marge told her.

"You're welcome here anytime, Natasha. Bring your friends sometime, too!" Myrtle said.

"Believe me, I will. They would love this shop." she told them as she opened the door and the small bell chimed, "I'll come back soon! Thank you, again. I really appreciate this."

"Like I said, it was our pleasure. Now go and enjoy the rest of your night." Marge told her.

"You, too. Good night!" Natasha stepped out of the store and closed the door behind her.

**XXXX**

_Author's Note: I'm thinking of doing a "Later that night..." chapter. In that chapter, Natasha would find her way into SHIELD Headquarters, meet up with Phil, and he would take care of her that night. Nothing sexual, just friendship. What do you think?_


	4. Day 3 - Later that Night

**Author's note: Sorry for the wait, guys. I had no motivation to write at all and I had writer's block. That's my excuse. Also, I wrote this entirely in my iPod. If you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, PLEASE tell me.******

**Warning: Because I made the mistake of mentioning Clint taking care of Natasha when she gets horny, this chapter contains sexual material.  
**

****_Later that Night...__  
_  
Natasha swiped her SHIELD ID card and scanned her retinas and pushed the doors open when they unlocked.

Not many people were in the building, save for those who had the night shift and the security guards. She wasn't sure why she was here, exactly. Maybe there was something she could occupy herself with for a while, be it paperwork or just walking around.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for floor 3. The doors slid closed and she rode up the floors. Two beeps marked the arrival to the second floor, and three beeps marked the arrival to the third floor. The doors opened and she entered the main control room. Only half of the lights were on, and there was no one in the room, save for an intern who was asleep at their computer. Natasha smirked.

She made her way to the central monitor and tapped at the dark screen. It lit up, and she tapped the file labeled "Avengers Initiative" and then selected "Avengers Profiles." She scanned over the various files with each of their names on them, wondering which one she should look at first. She decided on Clint's, even though she already knew all of its contents and more. The file marked "Miscellaneous" looked appealing. Tapping it, she saw the file named "Hawkeye Initiative." Curious to see it's contents, she was about to tap it, but was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. Turning, she saw that it was Phil Coulson holding a styrofoam cup of coffee.

"Hello, Agent Romanoff." he said casually.

"Hello, Agent Coulson."

"What brings you here so late at night? Thought you were enjoying a well deserved break."

"I should say the same to you. Why are you here so late?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"There seems to be a lot of that happening tonight."

"Why's that?"

"I was at a bakery a little while ago. The owners were still awake, too. Plus, I'm here for the same reason. I couldn't seem to get to sleep, so I figured I'd come here. Look for some busy work."

"Ah, I see," Phil said, "Want to accompany me to the Green Room? We could keep each other company." he offered.

"Sure, that'd be nice. I'd like to just sit down and relax for a while and just talk to someone."

**XXXX****  
**  
"Which bakery did you go to?" Phil asked Natasha.

"Two Little Red Hens. It's an adorable little bakery run by the two most adorable old ladies."

"I've never heard of them. Is their food good?"

"I actually don't know yet. I baked some cupcakes with them," she smirked, "We made a batch of red velvet peppermint caramel cupcakes. I haven't tried mine yet; it's still in my purse."

"Care to share it with an old friend?" Phil winked.

Natasha smiled, "If you get us some napkins and a knife, I'd be happy to share with you."

Phil rolled his eyes dramatically, "What is it with you, making me do all the work? Jeez, woman." Phil said sarcastically as he rose from his seat on the Green Room couch, "I'll be right back, then."

Natasha smiled smugly and nodded. A moment later Phil returned, plastic knife and napkins in hand. He put the napkins on the coffee table and looked at her expectantly. She opened up her purse and took the plastic container out of it and set it next to the napkins.

"You ready for this, Agent Coulson? After all, I did make these. And I am an assassin."

"Natasha, I don't think you would intentionally kill me. By accident, yes. On purpose, no. Though, I've already cheated death once, and I'm sure I can do it again. But in answer to your question, yes, I'm ready. Are you ready?"

"I've been ready since I made it. Now shut up and hand me that knife."

Phil did as she said, and she opened the small plastic container.

The cupcake looked delicious. It was big enough to fit comfortably in Phil's hand. It was red velvet colored with chocolate icing and coconut flakes on top. It looked delicious.

Natasha cut it in half, placed one half on a napkin, and handed it to Phil. To his surprise, it was still warm, which made it even better.

Natasha still had a smile on her face, except now it was directed to the warm cupcake half she held in her hand. She took a bite of it, mesmerized.

It tasted like regular red velvet, but once she got past that, she tasted the peppermint. The chocolate icing added a nice flavor, and the slight taste of coconut topped it off perfectly.

"So how have you been?" Phil asked as he took a bite of the cupcake and having the same reaction to it as Natasha.

She groaned, "I've been having a shitty past few days."

Phil frowned, "Why's that?"

"Period." she said bluntly. Strangely enough, Phil didn't seem to react to her answer.

"Ah, I get it. Is that why you had trouble sleeping?"

Natasha nodded.

"That's rough. Cramps giving you a hard time?"

Natasha nodded again, "How did you know?"

"Why else would you be awake at this hour? You're obviously trying to distract yourself from the pain."

Natasha shrugged, "Yeah, but whatever. They'll go away at some point."

"That's an unexpectedly optimistic thing for you to say." Phil laughed, "This cupcake must have been made with sunshine and happiness."

"Oh yeah, obviously."

"So tell me about this Two Little Red Hens bakery." Phil said to her as he took another bite of his cupcake half.

"Well," Natasha shifted into a more comfortable position, "My guess to why it's called Two Little Red Hens is that it's because the two little old ladies who work there are twins. I saw an old photograph of a younger version of them in the shop with red hair, so I guessed that's why it's Red. I don't know why they chose hens, though. The women are named Marge and Myrtle. Marge has insomnia and her sister was staying up with her. Myrtle told me that Marge got insomnia thirty-some years ago when her husband died. She couldn't sleep without him," Natasha's eyes started to water, "So her sister let her move in with her," she sniffed, "And every night that Marge couldn't sleep, Myrtle stays awake with her. Every single night for thirty years," tears spilled over Natasha's reddening eyes, "And it's just so sad and touching and sweet and I want a sister who will do that for me but I don't because of the fucking Red Room and I'm an assassin and it makes my life so difficult and I hate it! I'm the only female Avenger, and I don't know anything about Pepper, so I never hang out with her and I don't want to do girl things by myself and I can't do them because I'm the only female and I won't do them because I'm not even like that! I hate girl things! I hate fluffy things and pink things and relationships and emotions and I hate shopping and I abso-fucking-lutely hate periods!" her voice raised a few octaves as she neared the end of her rant. She was crying now, blubbering like a baby. Phil handed her a tissue, and she accepted it graciously.

He shifted uncomfortably, as he didn't quite know how to react to this. He had never seen Natasha like this before, and it scared him. He didn't think the Black Widow was capable of crying because of overwhelming emotions, honestly. His mother had taught him how to treat a woman, and he had experience with women on their periods due to working alongside Maria Hill and many other female coworkers. He knew just what to do.

He pulled her into a hug, "Natasha, you are amazing just the way you are. You don't need to do girl things all the time, and for the times you do girl things, you don't always need a girl with you," he let go of her and looked into her eyes, "You don't need to feminize yourself just because you're a woman, and especially when you're even more of a woman once a month. Now wipe your tears; I can get you more tissues if you want any. You don't need to be afraid to ask me to do things for you, even if it's something as simple as that."

Natasha sniffled and burst into tears again, "Th-thank you, Phil. No one's ev-er told me th-at before."

Phil leaned over the small coffee table in front of the couch and grabbed the conveniently placed box of tissues. He pulled five out and handed them to her, taking the used tissue from her and tossing it in the small trash bin in the corner of the room, "I mean it. You deal with a lot of crap, and you're so strong. It's really impressive, actually."

"I-I have to deal with these da-mned cramps all the time. They hurt like hell and they won't go away!" she croaked.

"Are they really bad right now?"

"Yes," she frowned.

Phil thought for a moment, "Come with me. I know just what you need."

**XXXX****  
**  
"Phil, where are we going?" Natasha asked for the third time. He hadn't told her where exactly they were going or what they were doing, but she didn't have much of a choice. She could either go back to the tower and wallow in pain and misery, or she could stick it out a bit longer and see what Phil had in mind. They had left SHIELD and were heading to another place somewhere in New York.

"I already told you, we're going to get your cramps taken care of!"

She huffed, "How could we possibly do that? Are we going to see Miracle Max or something?"

Phil smirked, "Not quite. Thankfully you're dressed for it, though."

"Can you please tell me?"

"No. We're almost there, anyway."

She rolled her eyes and followed him down two more blocks until he stopped in front of a large building with rotating glass doors. Large glowing letters just next to the doors indicated that they were at Reebok's Sports Club.

"Why did you take me here?" she asked.

"Because what you need is here." Phil answered.

"Are we going to work out?"

"Not exactly. Come in, I'll show you."

"Is it open?" she asked, unsure.

"Oh, yeah. They open at five in the morning. It's currently five-oh-three. Come on, let's go inside."

**XXXX****  
**  
"Of course I've done yoga before. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Of course I do. Don't you trust me? I wouldn't ask you to do yoga if I didn't think it would help."

Natasha pondered on that for a moment, "I guess you're right... Besides, it'll be fun on this rooftop court."

The gym was equipped with swimming pools, activity-specific workout areas, weight lifting rooms, rooftop workout courts, and dozens of more things Natasha hadn't discovered on her trip up to the rooftop.

Phil walked over to a bin and opened it up, "Pick a color, red or yellow?"

"What for?"

"Yoga mats."

"Give me the red one. It'll blend in more if I bleed all over it."

Phil chuckled in a slightly awkward way and handed her the mat. They rolled open their mats and made themselves comfortable.

"Okay, we're going to begin with some deep breathing exercises."

**XXXX****  
**  
Natasha silently skipped into her room at 7:02 so as not to disturb the still sleeping Clint. Phil had been right; the yoga really did help get rid of her cramps. She was feeling great.

Pitting her purse back in it's place, she slipped off her clothes and pulled on one of Clint's shirts. Doing this, it came to her attention that the only time she ever wore someone else's clothing was when she was on her period. It made her feel safe, especially when it was Clint's clothes that she was wearing.

She swiftly climbed back into bed and snuggled up with Clint, who graciously accepted the newfound source of warmth, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

Natasha closed her eyes and lulled herself to sleep with the sound and movement of Clint's breathing.

When Natasha awoke, she immediately knew that Clint would enjoy what was coming. She hadn't woken up aroused in a long time.

She maneuvered her way onto her side to face Clint, pressing her body closer to his, wrapping one of her legs around one of his. Snaking her arm around his waist and back, she felt the firm muscles of his back that he had gained from many years of field training.

Clint's body shifted and he pulled Natasha as close to him as he possible could. Slowly, his eyes flittered open and they focused on the woman who was currently entwined with him. He smiled, "Morning."

"Morning." Natasha responded in a rather seductive tone.

"Didja sleep well?"

"Mmhmm." she looked up at him through her lashes.

"Mmm. Well that's always good." he said in a deep voice as he leaned down and places a kiss on her full lips, which she returned wholeheartedly.

The kiss deepened and Clint moved onto his back, Natasha perched on top of him. She framed his face with smaller kisses and moved her legs so she was straddling him. Their lips met again and Clint rubbed his hands up and down her back with his fingertips, a soft moan escaping Natasha.

She began rocking back and forth on his growing erection, easily causing a low groan to emit from deep inside of Clint. She sat up and ran a finger down the middle of his chest excruciatingly slowly, teasing Clint, who whined in protest.

She traced the waistline of his navy blue boxers, slipping the tip of her finger under it.

"Tasha... Are you able to... do this yet?" Clint said between groans.

Natasha leaned over him and put her lips to his ear, "Just because I can't, it doesn't mean that you can't."

The rest of her hand followed suit, and Clint moaned in pleasure as Natasha's hand escaped into his boxers.


End file.
